Ante Bellum
by Faulty Paragon
Summary: As the tiny, backwater village of Nibelheim is attacked by the Heartless, Cloud finds nothing left for his family but mourning and death, until a group of travelling warriors arrives. They may be the only chance his people have at surviving a godforsaken year of eternal rain-but that year holds more than the mere rebuilding of his town in store for him. Cleon, possible others.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Here is a long story I wrote for a contest two years ago. Obviously you're going to see some changes, since it was a het story, and now it's BL KH/FF, and I'm going to be adding a lot more scenes in this than the original (in which I wrote the whole 50000+ words in a 13 hour timespan since the contest deadline was 24 hours away o.o). I hope you enjoy it!

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**Chapter 1: The Rains**

The rain refused to cease.

The relentless pounding of water attacking the thatched straw roof of the one-room home had long since dulled into an endless roar in his ears, but the lessened noise did little to ease the young man's restless heart. The growling stomachs of the little ones could not escape his thoughts, and for the nth time that day, he sighed, staring up at the clusters of herbs which hung in great rows upon the ceiling. _We're almost out of mintberry leaf, _he noted numbly, counting what few bundles of the greyish-green herb remained. _I'll have to go hunting for some._

His heart knew, however, that any search he did would prove to be fruitless. The rains had long since washed out any good soil, effectively destroying all of the herbs his family depended upon for their livelihood. After this batch, they would truly be left with nothing but each other.

"The gods are angry, child," his mother cooed softly as she stroked the head of a slumbering tot in the tiny cradle to her right, woven from silkstraw, just like the rest of their appliances. The young man's mother herself sat upon a chair made of the straw, woven by her own hands when she had been just a young girl.

The baby gurgled uneasily in her sleep, causing the five year old boy clinging to his mother's hip to gaze up at his older brother, eyes wide and solemn. Denzel didn't like it when Marlene was upset.

The man sighed again, resting his head against the ledge of the small window-hole, examining the craftsmanship of the village builders as he ran her fingers down the strands of silkstraw which made up the tiny building in its entirety. The grasses upon the plains they lived upon were strong, stronger than any of the wood in Ashe's Forest, and was perfect for building – so, the people of Nibelheim had used it for decades to shelter themselves and the village itself where the Lady Ashe and her fiery temper could not.

After a while of staring at the smooth yellow stalks, he peered out of the window, taking in the barren road before him. Their home was the last out of a total of fifteen little huts which lined the main street of Nibelheim, each building serving as both a home and a workshop for drying herbs, making remedies, and curing ailments of sick travellers. The only buildings which were any different were the grand meeting hall, which could seat the entire village, and the elder's homes, which also housed the emergency stores.

He had never liked being the last house on that road; it meant that by the time any adventurers arrived close enough for his family to strike a deal with, they had already emptied their purses and filled their bellies. No one, other than his family, which had learned to make everything out of the herb, needed mintberry leaf unless if they had a woman with them. It eased the cramps or headaches from Her gift – but when did women travel, after all?

"Mum, I know that," he replied at last. "Knowing that don't make it any more easy to accept. We didn't do no harm to the Citadel, nor to those tyrants down south. Why do we have to suffer their foolishness?"

His mother chuckled, pulling little Denzel upon her lap and motioning for her eldest child to come closer. "Cloud, I know it's not fair," she murmured as the older boy came and sat cross-legged before her. "But what can we do? The gods will do what they want. In time, this too will pass just like everything else in our world, and the war shall end. The important thing is that we don't get involved with Heartless, and them don't get involved with us."

"But Mum," Cloud protested, taking Denzel off of his mother's lap and into his welcoming arms. His heart broke as he felt his little brother's spine press against his chest, the bones jutting out against his skin. He placed his hands gently over the little boy's ears before lowering his voice, whispering with a pained look in his eye, "Marlene – she's hungry, but soon you'll see you can't make no more good milk without bread on the table or meat in the cooling shed. When was the last time we saw any fruit, for that? When? You haven't eaten anything for day or three, to give some goodies to me'n Denzel." His voice cracked, his chest trembling to control the sobs which threatened to burst. "Please, Mum. We've got to find a way. The whole village'll starve before we get another loaf of bread brought to us."

His mother smiled sadly, but shook her head. "Sweet, you'll see – soon, the rain'll stop, and we'll see another wagon bringin' us supplies from the Citadel. Maybe it'll even be by the end of the week – that way, we can give the last of our stock for food, and once your Da comes home, you and your Da will be able to go find some more mintberry leaf for us."

Cloud bit his lip to prevent angered words from slipping out. _Speaking ill to your mother is something that She wouldn't be happy with, _the seventeen year old scolded himself. _Be well and proper, it ain't something that She would be happy with at all. _

Thinking of Gaia, the mother of their great world, his heart eased a bit. As the chief goddess, as well as the goddess of healing and the protector of all humankind, She was the only figure which Cloud could hold onto in difficult times. After all, She was the only one that Cloud felt like he could relate to, as the goddess looked over all aspects of Cloud's life. One day, he too would have to meet Gaia at the gates to Kingdom Hearts, and if he had done his job well as a man walking upon the Great Earth, then he would be allowed into the iron-wrought gates peacefully to rejoin into the Lifestream, the circle of life ebbing and flowing through their world in the light.

_Why couldn't Lady Ashe be as forgiving? _he moaned internally, pressing his cheek gently upon Denzel's head as he fell deep into thought. _If Ashe allowed anyone into her forest without turning the animals upon them, then I might be able to find something that could help us. Even in this blasted rain, we might have had a _chance, _at least…_

"Cloud, we'll be okay!" Denzel protested from his lap, wriggling his head out of the man's hold, peering up at his elder brother anxiously. "Bahamut will keep us safe, won't he?"

"From your lips to the god's ears, silly child," their mother scolded softly. "You've got no right to call His name, just a tot you are."

"Sorry, Mum." Denzel pouted, but said no more. He knew his wrongs – only heroes and soldiers were entitled to mention Bahamut's name. As the father of the Great Earth, the bringer of peace, and the lord of warriors, Bahamut and his dragon steed were the ones who blazed over the lands, their fiery breaths great enough to be seen from the heavens sometimes. "I won't mention Him again by name."

Cloud chuckled and kissed the boy's raggedly cut hazel hair lovingly. "That's a good boy, Denzel," he cooed softly to his little brother. "You be a good boy, and He'll make you a great warrior someday."

The young boy immediately jumped, brandishing his invisible weapons at the hordes of enemies before him in his mind's eye. "And then, I'll be strong, and I'll stop the rain! No more healing for me, we won't even need to heal no mean travellers anymore! No more Heartless in the Citadel, and all those bad men would be kicked out of the Northern Realms, and they'd never even see Kingdom Hearts!" he cried so excitedly that his mother had to cuff his ear before he calmed down.

"We've an even littler one here who needs to sleep, child," she scolded gently, releasing her grip on his ear. "Calm your tongue."

"Sorry Mum," he repeated softly.

Cloud told the boy, "Even if you wanted to fight the Heartless, 'Zel, you won't get your fight. There's nothing for them here."

And it was true, as the Heartless, the amassed force of warriors from the southern lands – the _cursed _lands of the Realm of Darkness – had no interest in their little village. Nibelheim was upon the outskirts of Ashe's Forest, which sat at the foot of the Twilight Mountains. While the Citadel remained in the eastern end of the vast county, their home lay all the way across the Great Plains. In peacetime, wagons had made the arduous trek from the Citadel to Nibelheim biweekly to buy herbs for healers back in the bigger cities, bringing bread and dried meat – but with the rain, there was absolutely nothing for the Heartless to come and take.

Even if soldiers wanted to come through the Twilight Mountains to escape detection by the Citadel's soldiers, they could not – the range was impenetrable due to the presence of Bahamut, who made his keep upon the tallest peak, watching over the world with his all-seeing eyes. Anyone who tried to enter the Northern Realms by the Twilight Mountains never came out. And if they did, then they would meet their end by Ashe's wrath.

Denzel nodded, then skipped towards the corner of the room where his bed mat lay. His clothes hung from his frame like excessive drapes, the material patched and worn and dirty and grayish brown. They had clearly seen better days – back when he had still had his baby fat, which hadn't even been too long before, the clothes had fit him nicely.

A tear pricked Cloud's eye, and one glance in his mother's direction told him that the elder felt the same way. _He's too thin. He's too thin, the lad'll break soon._

As the young boy lay upon his mat and drew the tattered blanket over his body, Cloud looked around, examining the room. It was empty, far emptier than he had ever seen it. No longer were there worktables with drying herbs and jars filled with poultices and tea leaves resting upon them, nor was there the old dining table or the stools. It was just their mats, her mother's chair, Marlene's crib, and a small chest in the corner containing what little of value they had left.

Really, though, it was the absence of his father's uproarious laughter which made the building seem so empty. He had left three weeks before with a few of the other men, daring to trek the rapidly flooding roads towards the Citadel to search for any stranded wagon which might be bringing Nibelheim some supplies. It was a long shot, but his father had thought it was worth taking the risk, no matter how hard his mother and the young man himself had protested and pleaded.

He had yet to return, and in the rain, seeing his silhouette within the showers would be impossible.

Mouth set in a resolute line, his mother muttered, "Cloud, we'll get through this. The Heartless won't come this way – we've aught for them to take. Rest."

Cloud's eyes were drawn towards his mother, but as he gazed upon her dwindling form, he felt the sadness threatening to crush him. Before his father had left, his mother had continued to be a beacon of light in the small home, smiling and laughing constantly to brighten the dark, stormy days. However, now that he was gone, his mother had shrunk into herself. It wasn't noticeable to the young ones, but Cloud knew. Everything about her seemed to sag, from the drooping corners of her full lips to the faded pink ribbon holding back her hair, the one his father had proposed to her with.

"But Da-"

His mother paused for a second, face frozen and unreadable, before she relaxed once more. Cloud, however, didn't miss the doubtful look in her eye or the hardness to her tone as the woman murmured, "Your Da will come back soon, child. Breathe easy."

But Cloud could not, not without food in the house, not with his father's absence, not with the possibility – no matter how small – of the Heartless coming to their tiny, defenseless village.

As his eyes found themselves wandering out of the window once more, he simply turned away, crawled into his mat beside Denzel's huddled form, wrapped his rapidly thinning arm around the little boy's waist and closed his eyes, trying to block out the assault on the rooftop.

It was still raining.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here it is! It's still going slow, but Cloud's taking some action in this, and a few more players are introduced to the game. And please don't tell me I'm not the only one who giggles while imagining Cloud be super big-brother affectionate to Denzel. It's so cute XD

Enjoy! RxR please :)

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**Chapter 2: The Rush**

"Cloud, I'm hungry." The voice was quiet, unsure, muffled by the speaker's face pressed against the small of the young man's back, tiny fingers clinging to him like a crutch. "My tummy's warbling, all groaning and like."

"Hush, 'Zel," the boy muttered, placing a quick kiss upon his little brother's head before slipping the threadbare cloak over his shoulders. Pressing his body flat against the wall, he closed his eyes and tried to shut out the rhythmic beating of rain upon the rooftop, concentrating his ear onto the hushed murmurs outside underneath the awning.

"We're out of even mintberry," Cloud's mother whispered beyond the wall, her tone indicating her fright. "I don't know what to do, especially now that we're down to our last loaf o' bread."

"What about meat?" Cloud could recognize the voice to belong to the village elder, Ansem. "Do you still have any?"

"I wish I did," was the strained reply from his mother. Cloud heaved a sigh at that – his mother had told him that they still had enough to last for a few more weeks in the cooling shed, the dried foodstuffs enough to keep them going. _Why'd she allow Denzel and me to get extra slivers last night if we have none left?_

Yet, he knew. Cloud knew better than anybody that his mother hated depending on others, hated sharing her problems – but more than that, she could never let her children suffer. To think that she was out there in the rain, speaking to Ansem, to get any food she could bargain out of the old man to prevent her children from going hungry and seeing fear alight in their eyes and empty bellies – that idea tore at his heart.

"That's too bad," the man murmured, "but everyone is in the same boat. There is no extra, Aerith. You've got to realize that your little'uns may just have to get used to the hunger. Anyways, Cloud is clever and young and strong, a fine lad. He'll figure something out."

"But I don't want Cloud to figure nothin' out for us!" She registered how loud that cry had been and instantly continued in a hushed voice, "Cloud's just a little boy to me, elder. There's no way I can send him out there on a wild goose chase for some morsels which can last us for a few more days until his father comes home."

"Still no word from Zack has come to me," Ansem relayed softly, voice compassionate. Zack and Aerith had been sweethearts for a long as he could remember either of them looking halfway done the path to adulthood, and seeing Aerith without her husband was something that the whole village felt sorry for. "He's a strong man. You'll see him soon, don't you fret."

Cloud heard his mother chuckle half-heartedly. "I wish my children were as faithful," she muttered, the rustling of cloth from pulling her shawl around her just a little tighter to block out the chill. "Cloud has absolutely no faith in him. He believes his father's dead." Her voice rose in her suppressed hysteria at the last word.

_I don't want to think that Da is gone, but if he wasn't, he would have come back for us by now. He loves us all too much to leave us alone like this! You're the only one with any hope left, Mum, _Cloud thought, tears pricking his eyes. He hastily blinked the threatening tears away, turning to face Denzel, who was still right behind him. "'Zel, I'll be back soon, alright? I'll bring you something yummy."

The little boy registered what his older brother had said, and instantly long rivers of tears were falling from his anguished eyes. "You can't, Cloud," he bawled, not bothering to contain his sobs despite Cloud's frantic ushering of the boy to his cot. "Mum just said Da's gone, and you can't go too! Take me with you!"

To calm him down, the elder grabbed the little boy tight, pressing gentle kisses into his hair. "Stay here, child," he scolded lightly, trying to shut out his own cries from escaping into the air. "I'll be back soon. You need to stay here and protect Ma and Marlene, okay?" Rubbing his shoulders gently, Cloud added, "You're the man of the house until Da's home. Don't you do me no shame by letting them cry, you got it?"

The boy slowly nodded, his cries turning into quiet hiccups and the occasional wheeze as he tried to catch his breath, rubbing his tears and mucus upon his sleeve before smiling red-faced and teary-eyed at his brother. "You promise to come back?"

Cloud cradled Denzel close. "I'll come back afore nightfall, 'Zel, I promise," he whispered, holding the frail boy tight against his own too-bony frame. "I promise, so be safe, okay? Don't cause Ma no trouble, and help her with Marlene."

With the little boy's nod, he quickly grabbed his dagger (the tempered steel was the only thing of value the young man had ever owned in his life, and he knew it would save him when nothing else could), pulled the hood fashioned crudely from the top of the cloak over his head, and slipped out the front door before his mother could finish talking with the elder and see his disappearance.

As his footsteps sloshed and squelched through the muddy streets destroyed by the long rains, Cloud narrowed his eyes, ignoring the cries that echoed from concerned neighbours as he made his way down the side streets of Nibelheim. He wasn't going in the direction of the Citadel – his path was to take him straight to Ashe's Forest, the tall trees looming upon the horizon ominously.

Although his plan had been to leave unseen, in their tiny home, there was no way to do so.

"It's suicide!" "Lady Ashe will eat you alive! No one is allowed in her lands!" "You'll never come back! Think of your mother, your siblings!" "Don't you dare go there, lad!" The villagers called and pleaded for him to stop, to not head to his death, but the only thing he could think was _I'm hungry, I'm so, so hungry, Denzel's waiting for me, he needs food too. Ma doesn't want my help, but I've got to help anyways, or She'll never allow me into Kingdom Hearts. Marlene's just a baby, and she's got to grow into more than just that. She's got to become a beautiful woman like Ma someday, and so does Denzel, and when Da comes back he'll see his children grown and happy and Ma safe and this curst war be over- _and by this point the tears were streaming out, the hood fallen off his head, his blond locks drenched and his cries muted by the sound of rain falling so endlessly.

His silenced sobs were deafeningly loud in his head, but he simply continued running. A part of him felt ashamed to be so emotional – once upon a time, before this whole ordeal had become, he had been proud of his stoic self, acting as the firm helping hand for his parents and a hero for Denzel. Once upon a time, he had been strong and brave and useful – and now, it felt like all he could ever do was complain and cry and act weak in front of the children, and there was no honour in that.

The time to act had been long overdue.

Cloud had never gone farther than the statue which rested a mile out of the forest before, for the mintberry grew plentiful enough just north of the statue. The boy, alongside his father, often collected herbs in those patches. Now, however, those patches were completely washed away, and the boy understood that his only chance would lie with risking Ashe's wrath within the forests. Maybe there would be something inside the cover of the haunted trees, protected by the dense canopies from the intense downpour. Either way, Cloud was aware that no one else would be able to harvest the herb – it took a great deal of skill to extract the budding leaves without destroying the medicinal properties of the sap, and his family was the only group able to perform it properly. Whatever lay within the forest was practically his for the taking.

Although it was a madman's ploy, Cloud was desperate. He had been thinking about trying his luck within the forest for weeks, his options battling each other within his mind. Eventually, the war was clearly won by the cracked side, since he was heading towards his imminent death.

_No. I'll get back to Ma and Denzel and Marlene. I'll be okay. _He took a shuddering breath as his strength sapped out of his bones, body too weary to carry on in that desperate sprint. No longer did he have protesting neighbours to pull him back for attempting this crazy feat – he could afford giving himself room to breathe.

The sky was darkening behind the eternally grey, ominous ceiling of low clouds by the time he reached the statue which marked the beginning of the road to the cursed domain of Lady Ashe. It was a figure of a man, dressed in long, flowing robes, the contours of the billowing sleeves polished into smooth surfaces by years of erosion. The man was placed upon a stone pedestal so that he reached over four metres in height, an easily identifiable landmark amidst the tall silkstraw on either side of the road. His eyes were narrow, stern, but they emanated an aura which made Cloud feel warm inside, as if he was safe. Staring up at the magnificent figure, with its chin jutting out proudly, chest held high underneath that long robe, mouth open in a song, nostalgia filled him – it made him feel like a child again, listening to his father's stories of the depicted man and his people.

The Enchanters.

Cloud felt his face contort into a grimace. "If you're so powerful," he whispered, throat choking back the tears which threatened to escape his body once more, "then why aren't you helping us? Why are you doing this to us?" He lamely hit the base of the stone pedestal the figure stood upon, but all it did was bruise his heart further. _What could they possibly do? _He snorted, turning away from the statue in disgust. "There's no way singers could possibly be any sort of powerful. It's nothin' but an old tale."

Yet, as he stepped onto the path once more and the looming forest because to grow darker and more dangerous as he neared it, his mind kept drifting off to the Enchanters, to the stories his father had told him when he had merely been a tot.

The Enchanters had been nomadic tribes, ones who lived upon the Great Plains many years before. His father had whispered of their powers – so strange, so fascinating they had been to him in those days – and of how they were the strongest beings made by Gaia and Bahamut together, those few humans who were instilled with the ability to restore peace in one word.

Well, not one word – one _song. _

No one who lived in Nibelheim could tell Cloud how their powers had worked. All he grew up knowing was that they were strong, able to kill any enemy and heal any wound with their mere voices. As a child, Cloud had fallen in love with the idea of the Enchanters – every time his father went to obtain more mintberry, Cloud had come simply to look upon the statue, the man's strength and commanding aura almost greater than even his father's. It had broken his heart into infinitesimal pieces when he had learned that they had died out after the last great war, after peace was restored. However, rumours of their existence still floated around, and every once in a while he'd look up from his harvesting or whatever he might be doing and pray that there would be an Enchanter waiting to save the day.

But Cloud knew it was all just a legend. As his feet finally managed to pull out of the mud which grappled his with ankles, bringing him onto the small layer of grass which rested underneath the cover of the first trees at the edge of Ashe's Forest, the boy knew it more than ever. Those nomads, even if they had existed at some point, would have come and saved the Northern Realms long before.

If the Enchanters were real, Cloud wouldn't have had to be standing at the edge of Lady Ashe's stronghold, waiting to meet his untimely demise at the hands of the gods in the hunt for food. They would have brought back his father by then.

Thinking of his father, his eyes fell to his weapon. Gazing at the dagger in his hands, a sigh passed his lips – if only he had his father's broadsword, then maybe he would have felt safer entering the forest.

At this thought, bitterness welled up once more. Enchanters were dead. If not, they would have saved Nibelheim, saved the country, vanquished the Heartless by then.

He knew they weren't real. Cloud hadn't heard a song in a long, long time.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: And here's #3. Since the main character of this story was originally a girl, it's taking forever to go through the story and change all the female to male pronouns and possessives...

Enjoy and RxR!

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**Chapter 3: The Forests**

_Trees are frightening. _That was the first thought which entered Cloud's mind as he finally took his first step into Ashe's Forest, away from the silkstraw upon the Great Plains, away from his village, away from the statue of the Enchanter. The mighty figures towered high over him, the tallest easily a few hundred feet in height.

And, although he could not see or hear anything nearby, there was a threatening sense of foreboding growing dangerously quickly within the pit of his stomach, warning him of the imminent danger he would face within the confines of the trees.

Leaves had blocked out the rain completely, filling the forest floor with the musty stench of wet peat to curl within his nostrils. Although the ground itself was relatively dry, he could see the water present in the air at every glance – little drips from a branch, dewdrops upon blades of grass despite it being twilight.

The closeness of everything was suffocating; Cloud had been raised to be free, from the wide open sky to the vast plains to the infinitely long roads. Now, standing underneath the vines which were effectively his cages, he felt trapped, chained, his heart heavy and chest slowly working harder and harder in order to absorb enough oxygen to breathe in the claustrophobic conditions.

_I won't make it back to Denzel and Marlene and Ma before evening, _he realized tiredly, reprimanding himself for his miscalculation of time. However, his surroundings soon caught his attention once more, the trees both magnificent and terrifying in their drooping grandeur. Their long limbs hung drearily from the high heavens, long vines and loose, glowing mosses growing from every nook and cranny. The amount of green was dizzying for Cloud, with all the different hues melding with that dark, earthy brown. It was not the soft, almost golden-tan brown of the plains, but a rich, moist brown which teemed with life. Those shades were something that Cloud had only heard of from occasional travellers and his father. The greens were almost fluorescent, emitting a slight, hazy green-grey glow which provided enough light for the boy to see his way quite easily within the darkness of the forest.

No one had ever actually gone into Ashe's Forest and come back to tell the tale, though, so nothing could have possibly prepared the boy for what was about to occur.

Placing a slightly hesitant, fearful hand upon the first tree trunk in his path, running his fingers down the grains of the wood where the bark had been stripped away by some animal, a soft sigh of pleasure passed his lips.

_Bark feels nice, _he thought in awe, relishing in the dry, yet very living material underneath his fingertips. It was rougher than the stalks of silkstraw he had grown up with – but to Cloud, this felt more _real, _more tangible, more stable. It was hard to believe that his people had survived on those tiny strands of straw alone whilst there was such strong, sturdy wood within the forest.

Yet, feeling something creep onto his hand, Cloud jumped back in fright, recoiling instantly with a little shriek.

The tiny lichen spores which had been growing curiously upon the bark _moved, _instantly extending their tiny necks – like tentacles – and began grabbing at his fingers.

Holding his hand close to him, he carefully examined where the tiny tendrils had touched his skin. The things had left tiny little circles of irritated, bright red skin behind, and he was instantly struck with the insatiable urge to scratch so hard that the skin came off. Anything to stop the itch.

_What horror am I thinking? _Cloud shuddered and held the afflicted hand tight to distract himself from the itch, leaning forward slightly to look at the patch of lichen which had moved towards him. Squinting his eyes, his vision slowly began honing in onto the tiny plant-creatures in the dim light – and, as the image cleared, he felt a disgusted gasp fall out of his throat.

Each of the spores were circular, a pale, translucent green – as he leaned in, however, he could make out diminutive spikes which lined the flat, round tops of the growths.

The lichen had _teeth, _and they were moving ever so slowly – it was hypnotising, almost – awaiting the next creature to come in contact with the bark they thrived upon_._ Glancing around, Cloud could see that almost every single tree was covered in the same sorts of spores, and the harder he stared, the more they moved. Even the trees swayed in the non-existent wind, and if he listened hard enough, low growls seemed to be emitted from the bases of the trunks, the rustling of the leaves more hostile than simply movements of the breeze. It was then that Cloud finally understood why no one ever made it out of the place alive, even if they did nothing to attract attention from Lady Ashe herself. It wasn't from the animals, no – he had yet to see a single bird, rodent, or anything else for that matter.

It was the whole forest itself which was carnivorous.

"I've got to go," he whispered frantically, clutching his still-achingly-irritated hand to his chest. Still, he couldn't go home – not without food. If he did, then the entire journey would be to waste. _I'll get me some mintberry, and then I'll do no more here, _he chanted to himself, feet hesitating to take the first steps into the dark, dreary abyss of the forest. _I'll get some mintberry leaf then leave. No touching anything with your grubby paws, Cloud. Don't do it, no matter how interesting something is. _

And so, he began to walk, leaving behind the last gaps of light exuded from the plains behind. The trees swallowed him up readily, and before he knew it, he was walking along the uneven ground in the near-dark, tripping over roots and clumsily but quickly picking himself back up again. There was some semblance of a path made, so he followed it sharply, focussing upon the lighted way made by the natural glow of the flora. Cloud refused to touch anything and everything – there was no way to know whether there were more of the carnivorous molds and mosses infesting every surface.

With wary eyes and a weary heart, he searched on and on for a clearing of some sort. Mintberry was unlikely to grow where there were deep roots, so around the trees wasn't an option – if he could find a place away from the trees, somewhere where he could _breathe, _then maybe he'd find some of the herb and be able to leave.

Maybe.

As he carried on his way, the growls and moans of the trees became even louder. The boy found himself frequently stopping to check over his shoulder, simply to make sure that nothing uninvited had arrived, that there was no one to smite him down or pull him into the shadows completely. The vines hung dangerously low in some parts, making him want to crawl – but never did he stay in one spot too long. The moss below him made him feel uneasy enough.

Yet, nothing happened. Maybe it was because of his diligent watch and avoidance of anything else that might move and have teeth, or maybe because Lady Ashe had pitied him, he didn't know. All Cloud knew, as the cool chill of the forest and the wet cloak clinging to his form created an icy blade that was digging into his very bones, was that he needed to get some mintberry leaf and leave as soon as possible.

Finally, as his teeth began chattering so hard he thought they would break, a sound caught his ear. It was faint, as if it was being swallowed up by the endless, haunting trees, but it was there. "What in the world is that?" Cloud breathed, but even still, he could tell what it was.

Singing.

The voice was soft, quiet, but it was present – the faint resonance echoed eerily throughout the maze of trees. He pulled up the hood of his cloak further over his head to hide his presence and moved closer. Like a moth to flame, Cloud found himself drawn towards the voice, for that voice was the first sound he had heard within the forest which made him feel safe, warm.

He froze, his mind bringing himself instantly to a warmer, softer place. Before the rains had begun, when Marlene had just been born into the world – and when Denzel had been young, and when Cloud himself had been a babe before them – his mother used to sing to them lullabies from her childhood with her beautiful, melodious voice. Those songs had made him feel warm, safe, _loved, _for his entire life.

She hadn't sung since his father had left. Cloud missed it – it was an indication of normalcy his life lacked now, something he would do anything to bring back.

This voice, albeit being drastically different – it was a male's voice, after all – made him feel kind of the same way.

As he approached the voice, carefully clambering over roots and dodging the creeping, dangerously low vines, the sheer innocence and beauty of the voice struck him. It was unmistakeably male, but sat in such a high register that he instantly felt at ease listening to it. _There're no words_, he soon realized as he became close enough to pick out a distinct melody from the flowing notes upon the hidden stranger's lips. _He's just humming, whoever he is – why does it sound so beautiful? Why do I want to smile?_

Because smiling, he was.

After an eternity of following the voice in that same sweet daze-like calm, Cloud finally broke through the trees and found himself in a little clearing. No trunks riddled the ground into an uneven mess, leaving it simply smooth, covering by numerous tall grasses and weeds. However, the high branches still provided a thick canopy, the protection enough to withstand even the rains.

And, within the centre of the clearing, stood a young man, eyes closed, lips parted, long, elegant hands clasped behind his back, and body glowing a gently pulsing pink, the cheeriness of the tone so stark in contrast with the morbid background.

Cloud eyed his face in curiosity, momentarily forgetting about his injured hand, as he approached the singer. The singer's eyes, albeit closed, were clearly quite large, his lashes fairly long and slightly curled. His chestnut hair was not long, as the noblemen kept it – no, it was somewhere in between the length of commoners such as his family, and the city folk back east, and ridiculously spiked up in all directions. His features were soft, almost that of a woman, but his strong jaw and snub nose dismissed any questions regarding his identity.

As for clothes, this stranger was obviously apart from the people of the Great Plains. His hazelnut brown tunic fit snugly upon his body, tucked into brown leggings. The sleeves were identical to his pants, in that below his calf and elbow the fabric was skin-tight while above those joints it was loose. Shoes made of thin but evidently sturdy material covered his lithe feet. The design allowed for maximum manoeuvrability, Cloud could tell.

The smile was growing even wider on the blond's face, this man's voice seeming to wash away all doubts and fears he had been buried underneath for so long – all of his brief, flitting happiness began to gather and flood his veins, filling him with a fire in his belly that he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

It was like the sun was shining.

And then, his foot caught upon a twig which caused him to stumble, and all hell broke loose.

Instantly, the young man's voice ceased to fill the air. And, in that moment, Cloud truly witnessed magic occur for the first time before his eyes.

With a flick of the young stranger's wrist, a long, intricate weapon seemed to materialize in the boy's hands. The hilt was guarded by symmetrical spikes, a chain of crown-shaped links hanging from below. The main blade, a thick, navy blue, intimidating piece in itself, was surrounded by wing-like spikes graduating from a sky blue (that colour was so foreign to him now) to a pale gold. At the tip of the blade, a golden crown and heart sat, positioned like a spike to its enemies.

This was a warrior.

"Wait," Cloud cried, "I'm not here to fight!"

But the man did not heed him, because next thing he knew, Cloud's hands had flown to his head, clutching at his ears painfully as low, ominous tones escaped his throat, the sounds enough to bring tears of pain and misery into his eyes. The fierce irritation upon his hand was nothing compared to this – like a thousand pinpricks of pain were targeting his body, filling the backs of his eyes with hot flashes of white light as the pain merely intensified with every breath. Cloud struggled to stay upright, fearing what might be waiting upon the ground below – however, it soon proved to be too much of a task for him, and Cloud's knees gave was. A whimper escaped his lips pathetically.

However, nothing attacked him, nothing leeched onto him. Instead, a familiar scent filled his nostrils, one that he recognized instantly – mintberry.

His eyes shot upwards at the figure, distracted away from his discovery, as the armed man rapidly advanced. Maybe it was just the terror causing his heartbeat to race dangerously quickly, maybe it was the confusion of what in Her name was going on, maybe it was the fatigue from wandering for so many hours…

But that warm, comforting glow around the singer's body had now become a bright, almost blood-curdling crimson, seeming to emanate off of him in waves. Anger flared within his bright blue gaze, so his lips continued to move in that strange wordless, powerful song. The man ripped the worn cloak from Cloud's shoulders, revealing his bony frame within his clothes and terribly red, blistering hand.

Just as suddenly as the voice had turned murderous, it stopped, filling the air with an unnatural silence once more. This time, however, the gap was much longer between his songs – the low moans of the tree and vines slowly began to creep into the clearing, until a cacophony of noise surrounded them.

During that silence, the young man simply stared at Cloud's trembling body and wide eyes watching him fearfully. Finally, something in his bottomless, beautiful eyes seemed to shift, as if enlightenment had come upon him at last. Without a word, the young man took Cloud by the arm and pulled him up, lacing his fingers with the emaciated boy's afflicted ones. Startled by his touch, the blond immediately pulled away, but the vice-like grip wouldn't release him. No, instead he closed his eyes and hummed a soft, sweet, gentle tune, one that instantly sunk into Cloud's very mind and soul, making his eyelids droop in weariness.

And just like the wind, the singer was gone.

Cloud sunk to his knees upon the soft mintberry, inhaling the fresh scent which erupted from the snapped stems gratefully. It had all happened so fast, his eyes darting back and forth upon the dark floor, heart trying to block out the moaning of the forest around him. _Who was that boy? _He frowned, thinking of his face once more. _No, not a man - he was not more than a lad. He must be a bit younger than me – so where upon this great earth did he come from?_

There was no answer in sight.

But then, there was no time to think – as if something had possessed him, the next moment he could think, Cloud found himself in front of his home once more, body drenched by the journey back now that the stranger had torn his cloak and cast it aside somewhere unknown. His mother was screaming and clinging to his sopping form, his brother's hopeful eyes filling up with tears after realizing that Cloud had in fact not found any food for them like he had promised.

His bed mat was cold that night as he went asleep trembling from cold, fear, and from shame – for they had no more mintberry than when he had left. It had been right underneath his nose, and he hadn't collected any of it.

One thing was certain, at least for now - he couldn't go back in there.

So, he fell into an uneasy, restless slumber sandwiched between his sobbing mother and Denzel's bony frame clinging to him from behind, completely unaware that the wounds upon his injured hand had been completely healed.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter this time, but I'm sure you guys are starting to understand where its going now. Enjoy! RxR please :)

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**Chapter 4: The Hope**

The morning was a strange one, an unnatural heat settling over the tiny village like a stifling blanket. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, as if the air was honey and the people were trapped inside of it, blurred and distorted in Cloud's eyes.

The shock from his 'adventure', as the elders had called it bright (cloudy) and early that morning, had yet to leave as he gazed upon his pathetically empty pack forlornly. _I'm so sorry I failed you, Mum, _he thought, his eyes filling with tears again as regret flushed his from head to toe for the umpteenth time that morn. _I'm so sorry. Our hope was right under my nose, and yet I still messed up._

The young man shuddered at the very thought of entering the forest again, having to endure the long, arduous journey through the maze of carnivorous flora once more. He had no idea as to how in the world he had made it back to Nibelheim in one piece – there was no saying what would happen if he tried finding that small clearing of mintberry again.

He had failed, and there was nothing left to do but hide his shame and continue onwards.

It was not like anyone believed him. Upon waking that morning, he had attempted explaining what had happened to him in the confines of the forest, but no one except for his mother had paid him any heed. When it got to mentions of the wild-haired brunet singing, the reception was exceptionally poor.

The situation of the singer was so similar to the legends of the Enchanters, but no one was able to handle that idea – Enchanters were supposed to save people, but no one had come to save Nibelheim. Too many people had already died to pretend like mysterious singers would protect them all.

And yet, something within him niggled at the back of his mind - his father's words, the long, spellbinding stories and tales of grandiose adventures - _always protect your honour, embrace your dreams - _and the thought that maybe, maybe that boy really _was _an Enchanter, wouldn't get out of Cloud's mind.

With trembling fingers, Cloud opened the oiled hide pack – a gift from a generous traveller, many years before – to take out the dagger. They would need a fire – the days were rapidly becoming colder, and stalks of silkstraw needed to be cut. Thankfully, the sap inside the silkstraw, which was usually dried and pressed out before use in building, was easily flammable. It was simply a matter of getting enough to keep his tiny home warm during the winter storms.

All the villagers knew in their hearts that the war wouldn't end by the time winter came knocking upon their door. And when it did, unless they gained assistance, Nibelheim would fade away underneath the heavy snows.

Reaching his hand into the pouch he had kept the dagger within, Cloud's heart stood still for a moment as an unfamiliar material brushed against his hand. _This wasn't in here in the forest…_

Gritting his teeth in determination, he pulled out a tiny bag, eyes squeezed shut and arm held away from his in fright. However, as a light, extremely familiar scent invaded his nostrils, his eyelids slowly opened again, mouth dropping in awe and body slumping in surprise and confusion.

"Mintberry," Cloud breathed, examining the contents of the small pouch, which was about the length and width of his hand, dumbfounded by his discovery. Mintberry leaves – enough to last the family _weeks – _had been cut in the correct fashion, in a way that the properties the herb was valued for would be brought out the most. It was done by such a skilled hand, he could almost imagine his father being the one to gift the herbs to him.

A single tear rolled down his cheeks as the dismal want for his father's return surged through his veins before dying away. The cut was done by a better blade than the shears Cloud had used with his father – it couldn't have been Zack to give Cloud the small pouch.

Zack wasn't coming back. Holding the pouch close to his chest, he forced the tears which pricked his eyes to the back of his mind. His father had always been his hero, so why wasn't he coming to save the day?

It was only then that the lack of an itch or any red blisters upon his formerly aching hand caught his attention. In awe, Cloud inspected his hand, but the skin was as good as new. _How…?_

Suddenly, another smell wafted out from the bottom of the small pouch as well. Heart eased by the sight of the mintberry, he eagerly yanked out what lay inside so that he could see. When he did, a yelp escaped his lips before he could bite his tongue, not wanting to alert the elders who were still in discussion with his mother outside of their small home.

Jerky. _Meat_**. **

It was like a gift from Ashe herself.

Quickly tucking the contents of the pouch into his pack once more, Cloud tiptoed to the small window-hole and peeked out to the awning to watch the conversation carry on. "He's cracked," the man muttered spitefully, spinning on his heel without a second thought. "The lad is mad. Enchanters? Lady Ashe didn't kill him, she simply turned your child into a nut."

"I believe him!" Aerith cried. "Cloud's no fool, and you won't be calling him that, wisdom or no! That boy's got a head on his shoulders, and you can be sure it's screwed on right. When he arrived on our doorstep last night, there was something missing in his eyes, something uncanny. I knew he had seen something life-changing afore he even spoke it out!"

"Aerith, you are scared to lose your eldest, I know," Ansem calmly intoned, "but you must understand. You've littler ones to be worryin' your head about. Don't bother with Cloud if he's a lost cause."

A resounding slap filled the air, but was quickly drowned out by the torrential rain. "You ungrateful-"

"Don't you _dare_," the woman hissed murderously, "ever tell me that I oughta go around killin' my little ones. Cloud is my pride, he's everything I'm not, he's everything Zack has ever wanted to be. He'll go so far. He's not cracked – you're the one who's mad, telling me to lose my child."

Cloud felt a surge of pride and thankfulness fill his chest, but the feeling was quickly replaced with fear. If Ansem told the other elders that his mother had slapped the man, then how would the others react? Would they shun his family in their times of need?

_It's too late to think about that now,_ the young man thought wearily as heavy footsteps splashed their way hurriedly through the muddy roads, back up to the first house upon that main road. His mother re-entered the building, tiredness plaguing her face. Her skin was wrinkled, pale, expression sagging – it was as if that encounter had forced the relatively young woman to age by a millennia.

"Come here, my sweet lad," the woman whispered, beckoning to her eldest child with trembling fingers. Cloud responded immediately, embracing his mother, expressing his thanks towards the woman's actions.

Aerith stroked the younger's back lovingly, proudly. "I'm so happy you're still here, child," she whispered tearfully. "I thank Gaia with every part of my being that nothing took you away from me. Do you know how scared I was when you ran off yesterday? First your father, then you…" Silently, her thin shoulders began to wrack uncontrollably with sobs as she slid onto her knees upon the cold dirt floor.

It was probably then that Cloud realized how cold, frail, _broken _his mother really was inside. Clenching his fist tight, his resolved only strengthened – he had to be the one to save their family. After all, no one else would.

"Mum, I'm not cracknobbed," he whispered hoarsely, returning his mother's frantic hug. "There was a boy in the forest, and Mum, he was _singing, _he really was. It was beautiful. And, and I was hurt, and he healed me! There's no other explanation!"

His mother was about to respond when something interrupted their conversation abruptly.

"Mum! Cloud! Come look!" Denzel's shrill voice, muffled by the rain, broke through their thoughts. Without sparing a second to think, the pair instantly burst out of the door, bolting it through the rain to the cooling shed, where his cries were echoing from.

Slamming the door open, Cloud yelled, "'Zel! What's going on?" However, there was no reason to even ask, for the moment Aerith and Cloud entered the tiny shed, it was clear what the little boy was so shocked about.

Mintberry. Jerky.

_Food. _

At least ten bags of dried fruits, herbs – including mintberry – and meats, similar to the one Cloud had discovered within his pack, sat idly in the corner, as if they had been there all along. A strangled cry escaped their mother's throat before she fell to her knees, examining the goods with unsteady hands. They were all perfectly seasoned and dried, and with the chill of the cooling shed, it was clear that it was enough to last the family for _weeks_.

"By the gods," the shaking woman squeaked, her tears coming out once more, "we're saved. The gods – oh, they listened to us, they heard our prayers! Now," she instantly turned to face her two shell-shocked children, her expression one of shame and resolve, "you mustn't let the elders hear anything of this. They'll take it before we even put a dent in this feast."

"Mum, why would they do that?" the lad asked in a tiny voice.

She snorted mirthlessly. "I was just speaking to them, child, and it's clear – they were withholding food from the rest of the village." She nodded sadly at Cloud's horrified gaze. "I know, sweet – but why else would Ansem, that old bastard-" she spat disgustedly "-still be so plump? Everyone else has been struck by the rains, but no, all of the elders have been living heartily!"

_The elders… have been letting us starve alone?_

Cloud had been right – there really was no one else who could help his family, other than he himself.

And with that outburst, their mother allowed her happiness to overtake her once more, leaving her children to deal with the events as they may. Cloud's hands found their way to Denzel's startled, yet indubitably excited figure, snaking around his thin waist the clutch the joyful child tight to his own chest, silent sobs of his own sputtering out of his body.

All Cloud could think of was the food, the hope, and the figure in Ashe's Forest. It had been the boy, he just knew it.

The gods hadn't been the ones to save his family. It was the Enchanters who had listened to his pleas in the end.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Next chapter, up! Sorry it took so long... The decisive moment is slowly coming, guys :)

Enjoy, RxR please!

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**Chapter 5: The Plague**

The food was truly a blessing – no longer were there lines of worry etched upon Cloud's brow every morn, and Denzel's pale, moon-shaped face regained just enough of its former childish sparkle to lose his sickly pallor. Aerith was able to give Marlene more milk at last, and the sound of stomachs growling was no longer one they were familiar with.

After all, every week there would be more food waiting for them in the cooling shed. There was someone out there trying to save Cloud's family.

"The Enchanters are helping us," Cloud would whisper every time he opened the straw shed each Sunday. "They saw what I was looking for in the forests."

And then his mother would chant a silent prayer to the heavens, and Denzel would smile his toothy grin, ecstatic that his big brother was no longer trying to run away into Ashe's Forest, and Marlene would gurgle happily that innocent, ignorant way that only toddlers could do in harsh times. But Cloud was happy enough – even if they hadn't brought back his father or ended the war, his siblings and mother were safe. They would be okay.

Cloud knew that he could easily find out who was leaving them the food. In his heart, he knew that it must have been the boy, the one who had made him smile in that terrible forest with his song. However, instead of staking out the cooling shed in the darkness of night – the only time the boy could come leave food unnoticed, even amidst the rain – he simply allowed himself to be surprised when he awoke those mornings each week only to find that another few bags had been refilled.

Too scared to face their benefactor, all he did was pray that Gaia gave the stranger a free passage to Kingdom Hearts when it was his time. That brunet deserved it for saving them.

As for their standing with the rest of the village, however, Cloud and his family were instantly considered the black sheep. In a small area like Nibelheim, after Aerith's fight with Ansem, the elderly man had promptly made his way to every single one of the remaining houses to tell the villagers of how ungrateful their little family was. Cloud never bothered with finding out what he had told the others – it was safer in those times to be alone, he had realized dismally, watching the silhouettes of his former friends and neighbours turn away without a second thought. _It's better we don't have nothin' to do with each other. If they ever see the cooling shed, they'll kill us without a second thought. At least this way, they won't try to peek into our affairs. _

And so, Cloud's family lived in comfortable solitude, awaiting the rains to ease in peaceful nights spend together.

* * *

Unfortunately, calm can only last for so long.

The plague started out as whispers. It was bound to happen eventually, Cloud understood it well. With the rain flooding the streets and filling the pits where they dumped their crude chamber pots and the public outhouses overflowing with murky water, the eventual spread of disease was predictable.

It was a miracle the disease had yet to strike for so long.

When it came over the village at last, Cloud couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of interaction with the other villagers, following Ansem's argument with his mother. Not only was the possibility of the others finding out about their mysterious benefactor severely lowered, but now, there was practically no chance for his family to become ill from the others.

Cloud hadn't even known of the illness until he heard raised voices one early morning and a piercing scream shattering the peace of the village. If it had not been for his mother's cautious hand, he would have bolted out of the door in the torrential rains to see if Cloud could offer any assistance – but, remembering their new status, he agreed with his mother's decision to see what was going on.

So, with careful movements, the young man pushed open the door, squinting through the haze the tiny droplets created to the other side of the swamped road. What greeted his eyes when the blurred figures finally came his way, however, he slammed the door shut. Ignoring his mother's pleas and Denzel's confused babble, Cloud leapt towards the small window-hole in the wall to watch the procession move down the street.

Four boys in their late teens – once strong boys, old playmates of Cloud, now just as frail as he – were walking down the road, a straw stretcher carried between them. Thin, threadbare scarves were wrapped in thick layers around their noses and mouths, their eyes grim and lifeless. And, although the cargo upon the stretcher was covered by a coarse sheet, the arm hanging out of the shroud gave enough information for Cloud to retch once, twice, thrice in the chamber pot until his stomach was emptied entirely and his body was trembling in pain.

Bloody, oozing, pus-filled sores had dotted the arm, the fingernails completely covered by some sort of greenish fungi, with black dots spotting any skin not covered by the sores and mold.

The moment he could breathe, he ran to the tiny box in the corner of the room which held their treasures. Ignoring his mother's concerned pleas, Cloud pulled out one of the precious few crisp, clean linen sheets that his father had once brought from a trip to the Citadel. Before anyone could protest, he grabbed his dagger from inside and cut three strips, and another large section of the cloth out.

Thrusting the pieces into his mother's hands, Cloud deftly tied one strip around his own mouth and nose like a mask and pulled the larger section to cover the top of Marlene's cradle, thanking the gods that the material was light enough to breathe out of but thick enough to prevent any infection. With the remaining bit of cloth, he ran to the window and tucked the edges of the fabric underneath one of the many layers of silkstraw, effectively creating a screen from the outside.

Seeing her son's actions, Aerith paled, realization and dread alighting her eyes. "Someone's sick. Is it in the air?"

"I don't know, but someone's dead," Cloud clarified numbly before tying one of the two remaining pieces around Denzel's mouth and nose. To the little boy, he said, "We're going to play a game, alright, 'Zel? We're going to keep these on until I say it's alright to take them off, okay?"

"What if I take it off, Cloud?"

"Then He'll be very mad at you." Pulling the boy briskly onto his lap, he used trembling fingers to smooth his hair, absentmindedly noting how he needed to cut it again soon. _No use getting no lice, no use at all. _"All great warriors need to listen to their sisters and mums."

Denzel nodded thoughtfully appraising the statement. "It's itchy, but if the itchy stays on?"

Cloud smiled, but it was covered – the only indication of his expression was the slight crinkling of the corners of his blue eyes, but even that was faint, buried underneath layers of dirt, exhaustion, and the general hardness his face had retained after the continuous months of rain. "Then you'll get extra berries during dinner after the game. How's that?"

The little boy's eyes lit up in excitement. "Really? 'Kay, Cloud!"

Cloud pressed a bony hand to the boy's hair, since he couldn't kiss it with his mask.

Seeing the exchange between her children, Aerith donned the makeshift mask as well, biting her tongue about the ruined cloth. If Cloud was so scared, there must be a good reason. She trusted her son.

Instead, the woman stood and pulled on her own cloak, the last one the family had after the youngest boy had ruined Cloud's. "I'll go get some food," she murmured. "Thank your Da in your prayers tonight, sweets. If he hadn't insisted on that boardwalk being installed, then we'd be trudging knee deep in muck on the way to the shed. And, if he hadn't gotten the place spelled along with this building to keep out the wet, then we'd be joining them soon. Go be thankin' your Da fierce tonight."

Both children nodded, Denzel climbing into Cloud's lap. With a chuckle, the young man lifted up the little boy and walked over to Marlene's cradle, where the tot had managed to stand upright in her cradle and was poking at the strange covering on the top of her bed.

Stroking Marlene's slightly fuzzy head gently, Cloud fought to keep the shudders at bay at the thought of the body the boys had been carrying out of the village. Resignation filled every pore, and for some inexplicable reason, he didn't even care about the epiphany he reached so unconsciously as he awaited his mother's return from the cooling shed with some more jerky. _If no one comes to save us, we'll be wiped out due to plague. _

It was ironic, really – Nibelheim, the village known for healing any and all ailments, would die not by war, but by disease. So, as the days went by, the masks stayed on, the 'game' continued, and Cloud eventually stopped keeping track of the pus-covered, bloody bodies leaving Nibelheim forever. It wasn't that he couldn't keep track, no.

He just stopped caring about the inevitable.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I'm back :)

Enjoy and RxR!

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**Chapter 6: The Assault**

Each day, stretchers and their handlers were lofting bodies from different houses to the communal cremation ground outside of the village, presumably to be sent up to Gaia. _At least silkstraw will burn even in rain when it isn't dried out first, _Cloud thought ruefully. _Otherwise, the bodies would be mucking up the waters even more_. Cloud didn't dare leave their house other than to get more food from the cooling shed. Thankfully, amidst the hordes of dead bodies leaving the village weekly, it didn't affect their hidden sponsor. There was always food in the cooling shed for them.

The first indication that something had changed in the village was the banging upon Cloud's door, the silkstraw echoing hollowly. Warily, the young man stood, trudging over to open the latch which kept out the chill. He hesitated for a moment – was it really wise to allow someone in with so much disease running rampant? Still, the banging didn't stop, and eventually he lost patience. "Hello-"

The moment he undid the latch, the pounding upon his front door knocked him onto his rump with furious yells entering his ears.

"You little bastard," one of the men who stormed in cried, striking Cloud's cheek, leaving a flushed crimson handprint against his pale face. The intrusion startled Aerith and Denzel into wakefulness, and Marlene's loud cries immediately filled the small room as the sound awoke her from her fitful slumber.

Ansem strode in, hunched back guarded by two of the older boys who hadn't left with Zack and the other men. "Aerith, you held back food from the village."

Instantly, the inhabitants paled under the layers of grime engrained into their skin. Even in the dim light provided by a freshly cut straw torch that one of the men held, however, the elder managed to see the change in their expressions. "Care to explain?"

"The gods blessed us, nothing more," Cloud snapped, trying to mask the sheer terror welling in his eyes. Before he could utter another word, however, the same man who had slapped him before attacked him once more, this time cutting his cheek painfully with the thin ring upon his finger.

Cloud's mother stood, eyes blazing once they lost the stupor left by sleep. "You're not one to talk, you mangy-"

And then, it began.

Out of the blue, mid-stride, an arrow sprouted in Aerith's chest, abruptly forcing her to stop her words. Before their very eyes, the woman glanced down at the protrusion, gaze turning from anger, to confusion, to disbelief, to fear, until finally the woman fell lifeless to the floor. Cloud watched wide-eyed, completely petrified, as crimson blossomed from the penetrating wound, the air filling with the scent of copper. "Mum?" Turning his head slightly, the light of the men's torches reflected off of a moving object positioned in the window-hole.

A dark, shadowy mass with glinting yellow eyes stared cruelly at the humans within, mocking them, mocking the woman's dying body on the floor. Two antennae twitched, and am almost impossibly red leer split the shadow in two. Slowly, the men's heads turned as well, finally understanding what had just occurred.

Suddenly, the smoke was everywhere, the familiar scent of burning silkstraw oils spilling into every corner of the small building. The ensuing yells and screams startled Cloud into alertness, the boy seeing the fire and immediately responding how Zack had trained him to do ever since he was young. Without a moment's hesitation, Cloud ran, grabbed their one dagger and tucked it into his belt, picked up Denzel's confused, muddled form, scooped Marlene out of her crib, and pushed past the men blocking the doorway. He didn't even register knocking Ansem to the floor to drag himself and his siblings out – all he could think of was his destination.

_Cooling shed, cooling shed, must get to that curst cooling shed now- _and then he was up to his ankles in murky, disease-ridden water, but he didn't even care. His mask had been pulled down by a sobbing Marlene, whose tiny fingers were frantically grabbing onto the young man as he struggled to get away from the strange murderers who were suddenly filling the streets. Fires blazed even amid the rains, the smoke mingling with water to create dirty streaks upon his face, the scent of the silkstraw sap so strong his head pounded. The boardwalk had somehow been splintered, _no use for it now._

Another great, hulking figure, with barely distinguishable spiralling horns like a demon (_it _is _a demon, it's a_ Heartless, he realized dazedly) and gleaming golden eyes cut them off, bow aimed straight for Cloud's heart.

Gritting his teeth and shutting eyes tight, he barrelled past the creature, holding the two children tight to his chest. His arms were blazing like fire, the pain of holding two young ones with such little strength almost too much to bear. And then, he was inside.

The moment he had shut the door behind them, Cloud put down the children, took the cut stalks of silkstraw they were planning to burn when the times grew really cold, and began blocking the doorway. There were no windows in the little shed – no one would be able to spot them inside. Unfortunately, the place wasn't soundproof – Denzel's startled squeals of hysteria were rising in volume steadily, making him cringe and frantically search through the sacks of food their mysterious benefactor had left them.

"Cloud, Mum's in there, we have to get Mum-" The man shoved a sack of dried berries into the little boy's face, forcing a few morsels into his mouth and gesturing for the lad to chew carefully. He did as told, thankfully, so Cloud occupied himself with quieting the babe who was no doubt crying as well.

But Marlene wasn't crying.

A sudden numbness took hold of Cloud from head to toe as he looked at the little baby's outline in the utter dark of the shed. Although it was nearly pitch black inside, he could faintly trace the baby's silhouette against the woven walls. And, from what he could see, a long, thin object was embedded into Marlene's back, jutting out into the stale air of the shed grotesquely.

Running trembling fingers over his chest, where he had been holding Marlene, Cloud felt sticky wetness – not sticky like rain, no.

_Marlene..._

The reality of the situation, coupled with the stenches of waste from the disgustingly putrid water and the stink of blood – his baby sister's blood – overwhelmed him all at once, and the man soon found himself sobbing uncontrollably upon the ground, arms clutching at Denzel's diminutive frame as if his younger brother could save them. The little boy was still gnawing on the berries, still utterly confused. _He didn't see the monsters, _Cloud realized dimly. _I covered his eyes in time. _

Tugging at his sleeve gently, Denzel whispered through full cheeks, "Cloud, why are you crying? Where's Mum? Don't we gotta go get her?"

He didn't respond. There was nothing to say that could keep the boy calm. It would be better simply allow himself to cry and calm down later while he was still quiet. Slowly, the muffled sobs turned into sniffles, and his mind began shutting out the images of his mother toppling forward. Tuning out the scent of Marlene's blood, ignoring the feeling of it crusting upon his chest and fingers, Cloud eventually calmed down enough to think of what was going on.

The sounds of fighting, of screaming, and of cackling _demons of the Realm of Darkness _were distinct even in the dark confines of the shed. _They must've come 'cause we can heal decently, _he realized, running fingers through Denzel's hair. _The Heartless must have heard of our power and not realized how useless we are with this damned rain. _

The only way to get to Nibelheim was by following the great roads which led to the Citadel. A slow understanding of their new situation crept into his mind's eye.

_If the Heartless are here... and the only way to get here is the path from the Citadel... Da must be gone too. They must've killed him, otherwise he'd 'ave been back by now. Am I really all Denzel's got now? _Cloud placed hands over Denzel's ears, reaching into the tiny satchel of dried fruits the boy was nibbling upon and placing more between his lips every time the boy tried to ask the elder a question. He was cold; Cloud could feel him trembling, but he could do nothing to stop it. So, he just pulled the younger onto his lap and held him tight, crossing his legs in the process. Cloud grimaced as he felt muck around his calves and ankles, feet blistered and splintered – for a moment, he had forgotten that he had run barefoot through the plagued, flooded street, right on top of where the boardwalk would have been had it not been destroyed.

With a weak, pathetic grin, he flinched as a particularly loud scream and crash came from across the road. It sounded as if something – someone, he realized – was being thrown through the buildings themselves.

_We won't make the week if we're infected. I can't protect either of us if I'm sick. _

The door suddenly snapped off of its hinges outwards, sending the straw he had set up as a barrier spilling onto the ground outside and allowing the water to flood inwards without the protection of the boardwalk.

All Cloud could see was the silhouette of a great, fearsome centaur-like creature with a thundering set of hooves and a plumed helmet, vile golden eyes shining ominously from underneath. It was somehow holding a large jousting spear silhouetted against the fiery remains of the village. In the background, flames licked all of the buildings, and the people were either dead, strewn in the water or fleeing for their lives, only to be struck down moments later. Wide-eyed, Cloud gripped the hilt of the dagger he had kept in his belt, brandishing it futilely against the new attacker.

Denzel saw the demon and immediately started crying silently, quivering impossibly fast. "Cloud?" the little boy sobbed, and the demon took a step towards the pair, raising the deadly weapon above its head.

Out of the blue, a deep, throaty note suddenly seemed to appear out of thin air. The sound somehow felt like it was suspending itself over the village like a blanket, immediately nullifying all sound within the heat of battle. With no explanation, the echoes and cries of fighting and the crackling of speedy flames seemed to fade away, quietly exiting the stage as this powerful aura suddenly took over the spotlight. It was so calm, so regal, that Cloud couldn't help but marvel at the serenity of the voice. However, it wasn't just any note, not just any voice – the demon seemed to begin moving in slow motion, a flicker of fear slowly registering itself into those frightening yellow eyes before it became completely immobile.

Cloud quickly found he couldn't move either. He could see, he could smell, he could hear; but he couldn't move his limbs, head frozen in that one spot. Eyeballs darted around, completely confused, but the note slowly registered, and vague understanding clicked into his mind.

Another song began filling the air – this one, however, was completely different. No beauty, no regality, no elegance was within the singer's heart. It was clear that the owner of that young, angry voice only had one thing in mind – the intent to kill.

And on cue, the demon's golden gaze dulled in mere moments as dark violet blood and shadowy mist began spilling out of its mouth.

The twin blades which decapitated the creature from behind were practically unnecessary by the time the blood started flowing out of the demon's tear ducts as well. The body crumpled to the ground and disintegrated into the shadows from whence it came. Behind the drifting, shadowy remains of the beast, another silhouette surrounded by a deathly black blaze appeared. This boy's mouth was still open, expression grim as the low, ominous rumblings – for it had been him singing the second, harsher note, Cloud could tell – died away on his lips. In the distance, the long, regal note he had first heard died away as well, and Cloud found himself able to move once more.

Breathless, Cloud clutched an awed Denzel tight to his torso and murmured words of thanks before this newcomer, who stood behind the demon's remains with nothing but calm in his gaze. With a start, Cloud registered the youthfulness of this boy's face visible in the flickering flames outside. And those swords, so oddly shaped with the blades ornately representing something he could only take as two keys, reminded him of something he had seen before...

Wordlessly, the boy raised the hilts of his twin blades, approached Cloud, and struck him at the nape of his neck so his eyes rolled into the back of his head, body slouched onto the dirty floor.

The figure sighed, wiping the vile blood off his blades onto the edge of the doorway. The rest of the Heartless's relatively small scouting force had been demolished already – the Luna Diviner, the _Timeless,_ had already given them ample opportunity to take all of the demons out.

Glancing down at the young man at his feet, the warrior's eyes softened as he took in the fragile body, barely holding onto any last traces of former masculinity and strength; this man, who had probably been larger than he himself once upon a time, was so starved.

"I'll forgive you for helping these people," he murmured to his older twin. The latter was leaning on the outside of the shed with pain visible in his large, bottomless eyes. "This whole situation is an abomination."

The brunet stood straight, shaking his head in disgust. "They're defenceless. I've been watching this man whenever I drop off my share of the gatherings here."

The younger sighed, sending his weapons away in a myriad of lights and kneeling to pick up the forgotten little boy, who was still trembling beside the unconscious figure and watching the warrior with impossibly wide, gaunt eyes. "Go to sleep, little one," the teenager sang gently, his voice utterly reassuring.

Denzel slept without a word. He was powerless to do otherwise.


End file.
